


Like Real People Do

by Hailey_P



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 2012, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon Has Magic (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), Boys Kissing, Depression, Drama & Romance, Elemental Magic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by a Hozier Song, M/M, Memory Loss, Merthur 2021, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), POV Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Past Character Death, Pining Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Prince Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Recovered Memories, Relationship(s), Romance, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sharing a Bed, Slow Romance, Song: Like Real People Do (Hozier), Title from a Hozier Song, Tragic Romance, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 23:54:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29617404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hailey_P/pseuds/Hailey_P
Summary: Arthur Pendragon wakes up in the year 2012 with no memory of his past life. He is taken in by a mysterious man named Merlin. Arthur and Merlin become romantically involved, but Arthur knows little about Merlin's life or romantic past. As Arthur slowly regains memories of his past life, he falls deeper in love with Merlin, but continues to worry that Merlin doesn't feel the same.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin (Merlin)/Original Male Character(s), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 62
Collections: MERTHUR, Merthur, Merthur fics





	1. Chapter 1

The hands. 

The hands were what Arthur remembered.

The dirt was cold and slimy, and those fingers- those long, gentle fingers- they brushed it out of his eyes. It was the first thing Arthur saw. 

It was night. It was by the side of a lake, and Arthur was there, in the dirt, buried deep in the shore somehow, and-

He was crying. 

Arthur remembered that part best. 

As those hands pulled him from the earth, the beautiful man that owned them was weeping. Like he’d lost something, and found Arthur. 

Arthur never asked what.

He thought how kind, how merciful of those gentle fingers to smear away the mud from his eyes, his mouth, his hair, when they couldn’t help but shake from the grief.

Arthur felt that grief. He could sense it. It seemed to radiate from this man, like heat from a fire. Arthur pushed himself up onto one elbow, those gentle hands aiding him as he went. He raised his other arm out of the earth. It felt so unnaturally heavy, like the mud was trying to pull him back in, and there was something sweet in that. He could have settled back down into that enveloping earth and let the world forget him. But this moment, this man, rang with a need so strong that it called him to life. Arthur could not refuse that call. His rest was over. 

Arthur put his hand to the man’s face, and he sunk into the touch. His weeping turned to sobs. Arthur wiped the tears from his cheeks as they fell, trying to be as gentle, as merciful, as kind. He couldn’t stand to see, to feel, this man so broken. Arthur hardly knew what he was doing when he pulled that beautiful face to his own, and kissed his savior.

He tasted the salt of the tears, the clay in the soil. He felt the soft black hair under his fingers. He heard the crying stop, the crickets, the frogs. He sensed that grief ebb away, just for a moment. 

And those hands pulled him closer. 

The man took him home to a cottage a little way back in the woods. He showed him how to use the shower. His quiet misery told Arthur that this generosity was meant for someone else. 

“What is your name?” Arthur asked, once he’d gathered up the courage.

“Merlin,” he answered simply, and showed him the bed. 

Obediently, Arthur climbed in, and watched as Merlin drew the curtains, shut off the lights, gathered up the rotten rags and chainmail he had found Arthur in.

“Wait,” Arthur called. Merlin stopped at the door, but he wouldn’t turn around. “Would you- I mean, if you wanted to…You could stay, you know.”

Arthur knew he should say that he was taking too much, and that he should go. He wanted to say that he couldn’t face the thought of sleeping alone after all that time under the lake. But instead he left his offer hanging in the air, hoping Merlin would want to take it.

“I assure you, the sofa is perfectly comfortable,” Merlin said, and that was that.

Arthur lay awake for several hours, drowning in the emptiness of the room. Long past the time when both of them should have been asleep, Merlin slipped in and laid Arthur’s mail, now clean, on the chair. 

“Stay,” Arthur pleaded, just as Merlin was about to shut the door.

Merlin paused, just for a moment, and then he climbed into the bed.

“As you wish, sire,” he sighed, and rested his head on Arthur’s chest.

Arthur smiled for the first time in a very, very long time. 

He liked being teased, he remembered. He preferred it over Merlin’s quiet hospitality, at least. 

Merlin was gone when Arthur woke up. He found him cooking breakfast in the kitchen. Arthur slipped in and sat quietly at the table. Before he knew it, Merlin had set a heaping plate in front of him. 

“Thank you.” Arthur looked up. Merlin wouldn’t look him in the eye.

Merlin backed away and leaned against the counter, looking as if he wasn’t sure what to do. 

“Don’t you eat?” Arthur asked. 

“Yeah, of course I eat.” 

“Well, won’t you…?” Merlin stared at him blankly. Arthur laughed. “Well aren’t you going to eat with me, Merlin?”

Merlin looked astonished. 

“Oh, right.”

Merlin wiped his eyes. He thought Arthur wasn’t looking, but Arthur was always looking. Merlin sat down, quite awkwardly, and began to pick at his food.

“Are you... not… used to having guests?” Arthur asked.

“Not particularly, no.” There was almost a smile there.

“Well, er, it looks great.” Arthur took a bite of one of the sausages. 

Merlin blinked at him again. 

“What?” Arthur asked.

“Sorry. It’s just that the last person I cooked for wasn’t so... complimentary.”

Arthur was shoveling it in at this point.

“That person must have been a fool,” he said, through a mouthful of eggs, “This is fantastic!”

There it was. Merlin was smiling.

“He was a bit of an idiot,” Merlin laughed. “Slow down, you’ll choke!”

“Sorry,” Arthur said, “I haven’t eaten in… Well I don’t even know how long.”

Merlin’s smile faded. Arthur swallowed, and pushed the plate away.

“Please, eat as much as you like,” Merlin said.

“Merlin, what year is it?”

Merlin paused a moment. 

“It’s the year 2012, in the twenty-first century Anno Domini.” He answered.

“That would make me…” Arthur’s head swam. To think the world could have gone on this long, after… Well, Arthur didn’t remember much, but he felt that the end of his life had come with the end of something far greater.

Merlin was watching him. Arthur cleared his throat.

“Let’s just say it probably makes me too old for you,” he said.

“Ah, you’d be surprised.” Merlin’s voice shimmered with mirth, but the sadness never left his eyes.

“You’re older than you look, then?”

Merlin thought for a moment.

“I was born a peasant, in a small village called Ealdor. I entertained knights and served kings. I soared through the sky on the back of the Great Dragon. I witnessed the coming of Albion.” Merlin smiled, ever so briefly. 

“You have magic.” Arthur didn’t need to ask. He had felt the strength of it the moment he was pulled from the earth. 

Merlin took a deep breath.

“I do,” he said. “I am the sorcerer known as Emrys. The last sorcerer of the Old Religion.”

Arthur nodded.

“So magic has kept you alive, kept you young. And I imagine it is how I’ve…” Arthur wasn’t sure how to phrase it. 

“I should think so,” Merlin said, sparing Arthur from the end of that sentence.

Maybe it was time for a change of subject. Arthur clasped his hands together. 

“This man… the one you cooked for. Was he your…?”

Merlin looked confused.

“Were you two… together?”

“Oh.” Merlin didn’t seem to have expected that question. “I don’t think so. Sometimes I thought… Well I was never sure if he felt- if he could feel…” Merlin laughed. “No, we weren’t.”

“And he’s gone now?”

“He died.”

Arthur froze. The possibility of love, torn away. A powerful sorcerer with nothing left to lose…

Arthur had a sudden flash of memory- The hands, digging, frantically digging, until they grabbed hold of him and pulled…

Of course. Arthur remembered that powerful surge of grief he had felt when he first met Merlin. Merlin hadn’t just found him by accident. He had been trying to raise this man who had been his unrequited love, and he had raised Arthur instead. 

Arthur remembered how beautiful Merlin had looked that night, how lonely. How right it had felt to kiss him, to make him forget...

Arthur felt sick. How stupid he had been! That must have been the last thing Merlin wanted in that moment. 

Arthur shook his head, and steeled himself for what he wanted to say.

“I’m sorry if my being here pains you, Merlin,” he finally said.

Merlin’s eyes filled with tears.

“You don’t-” Merlin cut himself off at a look from Arthur. He sighed. “I’m sorry. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Arthur smiled, and touched Merlin’s hand.

“I cannot stay here.”

“What?” Merlin said. 

“I will not make myself your burden. I can make my own way from now on.” Arthur stood and turned toward the bedroom to retrieve his chainmail. Merlin grabbed him by the hand.

“Don’t leave,” he pleaded.

Arthur looked down at Merlin, puzzled. He squeezed Merlin’s hand, and touched his cheek. Merlin turned his face and kissed Arthur’s palm.

Arthur could no longer hold back. He leaned down and pressed his lips softly against Merlin’s.

“I will be here as long as you want me,” he whispered. 

Merlin pulled him close and kissed him hard, just as Arthur wondered how long that would be.


	2. Chapter 2

They had been living together for two months. For the first week or so, Merlin stayed close to Arthur. They took long walks around town and ate meals by candlelight. Arthur asked Merlin as many questions as he dared about any number of subjects: history, politics, technology, magic. The only subject he avoided was Merlin’s personal past- his romantic past. Arthur didn’t want to cause Merlin unnecessary distress, it was true, but he had selfish reasons as well. A man in his situation couldn’t help but feel second best. He was a living reminder of Merlin’s loss, his failure. He didn’t want to know about the man Merlin had really been trying to revive.

Arthur stole a kiss whenever he could, a touch when Merlin would allow it. Over time it became a habit to take their walks hand in hand. This was enough for Arthur. Eventually, he hoped, Merlin would open himself up to him, allow Arthur to know him fully. For now, holding hands was the best he could ask for.

Eventually Merlin started leaving during the days and only returning at nightfall. Arthur never knew how to pass his days alone. Sometimes he went down to the markets and chatted with the vendors, and it almost felt familiar. Sometimes he went back to the lake and walked up and down, thinking. He would always be back home before Merlin came through the door with a chicken or a roast for their dinner. 

“Tell me about dragons,” Arthur said one night over a bowl of stew. 

Merlin smiled his sad smile. “I’d rather not tonight,” he said.

“Then what would you like to tell me about?”

“How about you tell me something?”

“What can I tell you?” He couldn’t tell Merlin what he had done that day, how he had stared out over the water, felt the mud in his hands. 

Merlin gave him a strange look. “Do you remember nothing from your first life, Arthur?”

“Oh.” Arthur frowned. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to remember, it was just that nothing new had come to him yet. He had woken up knowing certain things. He knew of magic. He knew that he had been a knight, which meant he had been noble. He knew of war, and heartache- this was how he’d read the workings of Merlin’s heart when they first met. 

“It’s alright, Arthur.” Merlin’s eyes were sad. 

“No, no, I’ll tell you.” Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. “I remember… fighting. I was quite good at fighting. I used to have a magnificent sword… I would train every day… with the other knights…” Arthur’s eyes popped open. “My knights.”

“Yours, hm? In what sense?” Merlin was smiling.

Arthur grinned. “It’s not like you to be cheeky.”

“It’s not?”

Truth be told, Arthur hadn’t gotten a good sense of what Merlin was like. He was unhappy, this much Arthur knew. 

“Merlin," he said, regaining his thoughts, "I think I used to be royalty. A- a prince maybe.”

“A prince? Why not a king?”

“You’re making fun.”

“I’m not. If I were making fun I would say, ‘A prince? With that haircut?’” 

Arthur nudged him with his foot. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not.” Suddenly Merlin sounded serious.

Arthur searched his face.

“Really,” Merlin said, “It’s not.”

The next day, Merlin came home with a pile of books in lieu of dinner. They spent the night poring over records of knights, royal lineage, medieval kings, even English mythology. 

Long ago, Merlin explained, magic had faded from public consciousness. Stories of princes and knights, who fought beasts and knew of sorcery, could easily have been filed away in legend. He was right, of course. Arthur finally found his name in a collection of “Great British Myths,” in the very first of the chronicles they called “Arthurian” legends. 

“Pendragon,” Arthur murmured, “I am a Pendragon.” He felt it in his heart, and so he knew it to be true.

“Arthur Pendragon, the prince. It suits you,” Merlin said softly near Arthur’s ear, his hands on his shoulders. Arthur read on, almost too excited to notice this rare display of unprovoked affection.

“Here are my knights. I can picture some of them even. Sir Leon, Sir Elyan, Gwaine.” Arthur snorted. “Oh look, here they’ve written my father’s name… Uther.” Arthur suddenly felt a chill. He snapped the book shut. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Uther. I remember him.” A swell of emotion filled Arthur’s chest. “He loved me, wanted me to be a good king. He was… cold… He had lost my mother... He wanted to destroy magic.” The words tumbled out before Arthur realized what he was saying. He turned sharply to look at Merlin. 

Merlin had taken his hands off Arthur’s shoulders, and he was staring determinedly at the floor. Arthur grabbed his hand. 

“I am not my father,” he promised. “I might have thought ill of magic once, but… No, I was never fully comfortable hating it.” He kissed Merlin’s hand. “Or the people who wielded it. That was his mistake.” Arthur pushed the book away and pulled Merlin close to him.

“Watch it, witch hunter,” Merlin joked, though his voice was a little tight.

“Seems I already caught you.” Arthur hugged him close. “Come to bed with me,” he whispered in Merlin’s ear. 

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Merlin said, pushing him away. Arthur had no choice but to leave him there, running a finger over the book’s pages. Arthur wondered what kind of family Merlin used to have. Maybe they weren’t gone, but sorcerers like him, with the power to live as long as they pleased. Arthur would have to ask him, later.


	3. Chapter 3

When Arthur woke the next morning, Merlin was lying next to him. Arthur got up and pulled open the curtains. The sun had just barely risen, and the trees were bathed in soft clean light. Arthur heard Merlin stir. He climbed back into the bed, carefully, and ran a gentle finger down Merlin’s cheek. His eyes fluttered open.

“Sorry,” Arthur said, and pulled his hand away.

“Good morning,” Merlin yawned, flashing him a drowsy smile.

“You’re usually out of bed by the time I wake up.”

“Late night. Reading.”

“What, reading up on me?” Arthur grinned.

“No!” Merlin blushed. Arthur liked making Merlin blush.

“How did you like reading about my valiant deeds? Did it give you a little thrill?” 

“Prat,” Merlin said, and covered his face with a pillow. 

Arthur shut himself up. He couldn’t tell if he was being teased or if he had crossed a line. Merlin lifted the edge of the pillow and peeked at him. Arthur pushed the pillow away and pressed his lips to Merlin’s. 

“Sorry,” he said again.

Merlin rolled his eyes and pulled Arthur back to him.

“Arthur,” he groaned when the kiss was over, flopping back onto his pillow, “I don’t want to get out of bed today.”

“Then don’t,” Arthur blurted. 

Merlin smiled at him. “Work,” he said.

“Don’t you have thousands of years of savings or something?”

“Spent it all at the pub.”

“Be serious. What do you even do for work?”

“I help out at one of the little shops on the high street. Sweep up and such.”

“What, really?”

“Yeah.”

“But you’re the last sorcerer of the Old Religion,” Arthur said in his most stately voice, “Why do you stay working in a shop?”

“I find that simple work stops me thinking I’m better than people, your highness.” Merlin pushed Arthur’s shoulder. 

“Fair enough,” Arthur laughed, pushing back. “But surely you can miss a day, can’t you?”

Merlin sighed, and closed his eyes. Arthur leaned down and kissed him again. 

“Stay here with me,” Arthur whispered. Merlin looked at him longingly, his breath halted. He wanted Arthur. Realizing this made Arthur’s heart beat fast. 

“Alright,” Merlin breathed. He pulled Arthur back down and kissed him so fiercely that Arthur could hardly stand it. 

The two of them laid in bed, Merlin tracing the lines of Arthur’s face with gentle fingers, brushing his hair back. Arthur caught Merlin’s fingers and kissed them. He wrapped an arm around Merlin’s waist and pulled him close. 

Merlin smiled, pressing his forehead against Arthur’s. 

“This is nice,” he said.

“This is bliss,” said Arthur, closing his eyes.

Merlin chuckled. “I could lie here forever.”

They didn’t, though, as much as Arthur wanted to. Around midday they left together to buy some sweets and a bottle of wine. 

“It’s my day off,” Merlin told him, brandishing the bottle with the most radiant of smiles, “We might as well celebrate.”

They wound their way back to the cottage, and Merlin made them pasta. Arthur provided ample distraction; standing close, stealing touches, even stealing bites when Merlin wasn’t looking. 

“Oi!” Merlin shouted, turning suddenly from the sink, “What do you mean to do with that fork?” 

Arthur was frozen over the pan, his fork lowered halfway into it.

“Nothing.” He smiled. “Just stirring it for you.” He made stirring motions. 

“Right. Out of the kitchen, you thieving rat!” Merlin made like he was going to whack Arthur with his wooden spoon, but his smile gave him away. Arthur caught him around the waist and kissed him. The spoon went slack in Merlin’s hand.

They ended up on the kitchen floor, eating straight out of the pan. 

“You know,” Arthur said, pointing with his fork, “You can’t speak to me that way.”

“What? Speak to you how?” Merlin could hardly eat for smiling.

“Thieving rat? I am your sovereign, and I expect to be treated as such.” Arthur raised himself up impressively, to complete the effect. 

Merlin raised his eyebrows. He gave a small laugh. “You need me to talk to you like that, else your princely head will get too big to fit through your armor.” His tone was strange, and his smile faded after that. 

Arthur frowned. “You know I’m joking, Merlin. Actually, I always liked having people like you around to tell me off, back when I was king.”

Merlin’s head snapped up.

“I mean, I think I did,” Arthur added quickly. “I don’t know where that came from.”

Merlin cast his eyes back down, the weight on his shoulders looking heavy again. 

“Besides,” Arthur rambled on, trying to get the pleasant mood back, “I should be the one watching what I say. This is your home, I am only a guest in it.” Temporary, Arthur thought, though he didn’t say it out loud.

A sudden bark of laughter startled him. Arthur looked over at Merlin, who was looking at him like he was a lunatic. 

“Is that what you think?” Merlin laughed.

“Am I… Mistaken?” Arthur said, bewildered.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, dropping his fork and taking Arthur’s face in his hands, “This is as much your home as it is mine. It’s been waiting for… Well, for someone to fill it. For a while now. I brought you here, and then I made you stay. Didn’t you realize that I…” Merlin trailed off. He was looking at Arthur with such fondness. 

Arthur found himself reevaluating everything he had assumed about Merlin up until now. Could it be that he felt the same as Arthur? Yes, Arthur knew Merlin liked having him around, but love? That was a different thing altogether. And now, the way those blue eyes were staring into his… Arthur covered one of Merlin’s hands with his own, and smiled.

Merlin smiled back. “I am not the sovereign of this house. Nor am I the sovereign of you.” He kissed him. “You git.”

“Don’t say that,” Arthur murmured between kisses.

“Say what, my lord?” Merlin laughed, “That you’re a git?”

Arthur pulled away just far enough to look Merlin in the eye. He gave Merlin a long-suffering look.

“Surely you must have realized,” Arthur said, running fingers through Merlin’s hair, “That you are the sovereign of my heart.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Only a knight of Camelot could come up with something so nauseatingly romantic,” he said. But Arthur could see the blush creeping up his neck.

They drank the wine. Arthur had great fun reading Sir Gawain and the Green Knight aloud for Merlin. The drunker Arthur got, the more often he broke in with scoffs and interjections, until Merlin laughed so hard it hurt, and they had to put the book away.

“I quite liked that story,” Arthur said afterward, throwing Merlin into a fit of laughter again. 

They made their way to bed, Merlin more affected by the wine than Arthur. Arthur helped him under the covers and brushed his hair away from his eyes, and all the while Merlin wore a soft smile. This was the happiest Arthur had seen him, and that made Arthur happy too. Arthur laid next to Merlin, watching him drift off to sleep, thinking over the wonderful day they’d had. 

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered. Merlin’s eyes were closed. “Merlin,” Arthur said again, laying a kiss just under his ear. The wine had made him bold. “Tell me who you loved before me.”

“No one,” Merlin murmured, half asleep.

“There had to be others,” Arthur said.

“There were others,” Merlin sighed out, nuzzling into his pillow.

Arthur didn’t understand. He chalked it up to Merlin’s drowsiness. “Tell me about them,” he said.

“I loved my king…” Merlin smiled, though his eyes were still closed.

Arthur chuckled. “No,” he said, “Not that kind of love. Love like this.” He kissed Merlin softly on the lips, and felt his drowsy smile widen.

“My king…” Merlin whispered. 

“Are you making fun of me?” Arthur ran his fingers through Merlin’s hair.

“...always.”

Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Always… You… There were others…” Merlin’s sleepy smile went away. “He fished the lake…”

Arthur sat up a little. 

“Never knew…”

Never knew about his magic, Arthur guessed.

“He wanted… Never could give him…” Merlin’s face scrunched up. 

“Hey! Hey,” Arthur said, putting a hand on Merlin’s cheek. A tear rolled over his thumb. 

“...I told him I wouldn’t… He shouldn’t… He wanted…” Merlin brought a hand up to his eyes. 

Arthur pulled him close. “Merlin…”

“I’m so s-s-sorry,” Merlin sobbed into Arthur’s chest. 

Arthur tried to soothe him with frantic touches and murmurs, but Merlin continued to cry until he finally drifted off, his face still wet with tears. Arthur carefully wiped them away, wondering what had happened to make him so upset. Had this fisherman tried to hurt Merlin? Was he the one Merlin had been trying to resurrect? Had Merlin been responsible for this man’s death, somehow? 

Arthur looked down at his love, whose face had gone back to being peaceful. He cursed himself for bringing up the subject at all, he’d known it was a sore point. There were one or two possible scenarios now in Arthur’s head, but none felt quite right. Maybe he would never know for certain what Merlin had been through, or why he, Arthur, had been brought back. Maybe he wasn’t meant to know. 

In the morning, Merlin appeared to have no memory of their conversation. He seemed more tired than usual, but made no mention of lakes or loves or mysterious regrets. Arthur sat on the kitchen counter and watched him make eggs.

“What is it?” Merlin glanced up at him.

“Hmm?”

“You’re staring. What?”

“Oh.” Arthur quickly looked away. “Did you… have a bad dream last night?”

Merlin took the eggs off the heat. He let out a sigh and leaned back against Arthur’s chest. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “Did I wake you?” He tilted his head back and looked up at Arthur. 

Arthur wrapped his arms around him. “No, no. I mean, you know me. I don’t sleep very well anyway.”

Merlin turned around and hugged Arthur back.

“Can I ask,” Arthur said, tangling his fingers into Merlin’s hair, “What was it about?”

“It’s hard to explain.” Merlin’s voice was muffled by Arthur’s chest.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Arthur said.

Merlin pulled back and looked at him. He put a hand to Arthur’s cheek.

“Is there no limit to your patience?” he murmured fondly.

Arthur said nothing, only leaned into Merlin’s hand.

“You’ve stayed confined here, just because I asked it of you. You’ve settled for my poor excuses and stunted conversation, and all you ask is to know what it is you’ve woken up to. Who you’ve woken up to…” 

Arthur put his hand over Merlin’s.

Merlin’s eyes were soft. “And even then, you never force me to give an answer.”

Arthur thought back to last night, how he’d pushed and pushed and all he’d got from it was Merlin in tears. No, forcing answers did not interest him. 

“All I care about is that you’re happy with me,” he said.

“But are you happy with me?”

“Yes.” Arthur did not hesitate.

“How? How are you happy in this little shack, where nothing is familiar and there’s little to entertain? You used to be a prince! To go on adventures! To quest, to fight, to be merry!” Merlin pulled his hand back. “I assume,” he added.

Arthur waited until he caught Merlin’s eye. “Do you know what it was like?” he asked.

“What?”

“Being down there. In the mud.”

Merlin averted his eyes. They didn’t bring up this subject, not ever. It was as if Arthur was breaking an unspoken promise. But he felt it was important, now. 

“I wasn’t… awake. Not really. But I don’t think I was dead. I have memories, vague ones. It was... cold. Suffocating. There was no light, no room. ‘Nothing to entertain.’ This,” He gestured to the flat, “Is like having an entire kingdom, compared to being buried.” 

Arthur was only lying a little. The mud had been suffocating, it was true, but it had been nice to be held, even by the earth. It had been nice to sleep for a while. 

Merlin sighed. 

“And truth be told,” Arthur continued, “I’m not entirely… right. I think something happened to me, back in my old life. It’s still murky for me, but even so... I feel the pain of it.”

Merlin watched Arthur speak, his eyes swimming.

“I’m not ready for adventure,” Arthur went on, “I don’t want to fight. I just want to be near you.” His voice broke. “You bring me such comfort, Merlin.” 

Merlin kissed him, despite the tears running down both their faces. 

“I feel the same about you,” Merlin said. This was as close as Arthur had gotten to a declaration of love. His chest felt warm, and the tears came out faster. Merlin brushed them away.

“Hey now, since when are you the soft one?” He teased, gently. 

Arthur smiled through his tears. He pulled Merlin close again.

“I want you to know me,” Merlin whispered.

“I want that, too.”

“Do you want to know what I dreamt of?”

Arthur’s heart beat fast. “What?” he asked.

“I dreamt of losing you.”

Arthur was taken aback. After what Merlin had said in his drowsy state, Arthur had expected to hear about the other man, the one who had fished in the lake. He couldn’t help but feel he was being lied to. 

Merlin kissed him again. Arthur kissed back, fervently, bunching up the back of Merlin’s shirt in his hands. He didn’t care that it wasn’t true. It was such a wonderful lie.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur didn’t often like to be away from home while Merlin was there, but the evening was so cool and pleasant, and Arthur hadn’t been down to the lake that day, so he slipped out while Merlin was cooking dinner. 

He could hear the crickets chirping. The sun hadn’t gone all the way down yet, so the world was tinged with the deep violet of dusk. Arthur made his way through the trees, listening. He tried to remember the lightness in his feet, how quietly he had moved when he used to hunt in the woods near Camelot. He had woken up clumsier than he expected, but he supposed a two thousand year nap will do that to you. His strength, too, was not what it used to be. He knew from the ache in his arms when he would lift something instinctively and find he could not hold it. 

Something kept drawing Arthur back to the lake. Whether it was morbid curiosity, or a memory, or something else entirely, Arthur did not know. He only knew that he could not resist it. So, he had decided, he would use his frequent trips to train. His tread was the easiest part; on his way down to the lakeside he would find a squirrel or a bird and see how close he could get before it fled. By the lake, when he felt the urge to feel the mud between his fingers, he would do push-ups by the water until he was sated or he collapsed- whichever came first. 

Sometimes he would strip down and see how far out he would swim. Once, he had been doing a backstroke when he could have sworn he heard a woman’s voice calling his name. She sounded like she was calling to him through the water, from under the lake. It had felt so real, so... familiar. He hadn’t felt much like swimming since then. 

Tonight, Arthur did not train. The feeling was strong. The most he could make himself do was sit, and stare out over the water. How had he come to be here? Arthur didn’t like asking himself this question. It felt a little too close to regret. Sometimes the memory of the earth trying to hold onto him would come to the forefront of his mind. He would remember the choice he had made in that moment: Sleep, or Merlin. He did not regret his choice. He did not. 

Still, as Arthur sat and looked out over the water, he couldn’t help but think about what led him to that choice. How had he wound up under the lake? How had he died? Why had he been brought here, now? 

Was it his destiny to be there for Merlin? Was that why he had been brought back, instead of the fisherman?

No, he could not answer those questions. He must go back to the other ones. How had he died? How had he died? He tried to remember. He had woken with a feeling of loss. It was bigger than himself, bigger than a single person. He had lost a battle, perhaps. Had he been killed? What had he been fighting for?

This answer was simple, it didn’t need remembering. Camelot. He always fought for Camelot. And for equality. And for love. 

Love. 

Merlin. 

No, Merlin wouldn’t have been there. 

Guinevere. 

Guinevere. She had dark eyes and a smile like honey and she had been his queen. He had left her behind… he went to fight…

Mordred. 

He had trusted Mordred. That’s how he had died. A sword through the belly. He remembered the piercing feeling, the strange thoughts that passed through his mind. He had often thought he might die by the sword. He had been cut before, but he didn’t know how it would feel to be run through. He supposed it was quite like he expected. 

Mordred. 

What had he been fighting for?

Camelot. Love. Equality. Magic… 

Morgana.


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur stumbled through the door. 

“Merlin,” he choked, “I have a sister.” He covered his eyes. “Had a sister.”

Merlin looked as if he had been wrought from marble. His face was carefully composed, his hands carefully stilled. 

“I know,” he said. His eyes fell.

Arthur looked up. “You…?” He knew. He knew. How could he know? Arthur thought Merlin had brushed away the mud over his eyes but he hadn’t, only now was he seeing it all. Arthur had kissed him so instinctively. He had sensed the magic in him so easily. How many bodies could there really have been, buried by that lake? Why had he never wanted to think, never wanted to assume…

He remembered a bright day within the walls of Camelot, a skinny boy whose bravery was too large for his body. Arthur had always been intuitive. He could feel the importance of people, like a warm tingle in the tips of his fingers, on the back of his neck. He felt it around Morgana, especially after Merlin began living in the castle. He had felt it during Gaius’ medical examinations. And with Mordred, who he had known to trust so quickly. He had always taken it for gut instinct about the goodness of people, but thousands of years of sleep have a way of making things clear to you, eventually. Arthur had been born of magic. He couldn’t exist without magic. It was a part of him, and he was drawn to it. He had been drawn to Merlin, from the beginning of everything, because Merlin was magic itself. But that wasn’t all of it.

Arthur had felt a certain familiarity when Merlin lifted him from the earth, and it wasn’t just that tingling feeling in his fingers. It was a warmth, a comfort, a wholeness. Arthur’s memories had taken leave of him, but his heart had remembered its home. He had loved Merlin, once. He knew that now. 

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered, with all the weight of the world. He was seeing him now as he had been, that mouthy, honest, impossibly understanding servant who was more than a servant, they both knew. 

Merlin lifted his eyes to Arthur’s. Such pain, such longing. They each stood, staring at each other, wanting nothing but to close that distance and be held, but they couldn’t.

It was as if all those old boundaries had been thrown up again. Those hungry affections with no outlet, and no hope of there ever being one. The lingering touches, the compliments only given behind closed doors, and these as close as either of them dared come to flirting. The thinly veiled excuses for worry, for anger, for hurt, that they told themselves as they fell asleep each night. How often had Arthur had Merlin dress him, trying not to shiver at the feel of his breath on the back of his neck, nearly collapsing from the enormity of being touched as Merlin’s hands brushed over his coat? 

Arthur couldn’t make himself do what he longed to do with every bone in his body: He couldn’t stride across the room and wrap his arms around Merlin, as he had done so many times since he’d come back. He had to think. Think.

“You brought me back.” He measured the words carefully.

“Yes.”

“Why? Why now?”

Merlin shrunk into himself. “There was a prophecy,” he said, “You were meant to come back. You were meant to return ‘When Albion’s need was greatest,’ and I…” Merlin’s voice broke, and the tears came pouring out. “I needed you. I needed... “ Merlin put his face in his hands. 

The grief. Dear god, it was filling the room again, the weight of everything Merlin had borne. The years had only made it heavier. 

Arthur crossed the room. 

Merlin pressed his face into Arthur’s chest without a second thought. Arthur held him as tightly as he could. 

“I’ve been so selfish,” said Merlin, “I’m a monster. I’m a- a-” The rest was lost in sobs.

“Merlin, I’m here. I’m here.” Arthur stroked Merlin’s hair. “This is where I want to be.”


	6. Chapter 6

They were having tea. It had been a while since Merlin had stopped crying, and neither of them had said much. They stayed touching, though. Arthur was half afraid he’d forget how again if he stopped now. The fingers of his free hand curled loosely around Merlin’s as they sat on the sofa, their feet nestled close on the ottoman. Merlin stared past them absently, holding his cup to his lips.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, settling against his arm, “Tell me what you remember.”

Arthur smiled. “I remember all of it, now.”

“How do you know?”

Arthur frowned. “I guess I couldn’t know, really. But I don’t have that feeling anymore, like there’s something missing. That pain I told you about feels as if it has a place now. I lost Camelot. I lost my friends. And you.”

Merlin looked up.

“Yes,” Arthur said, “I remember all of it. I remember what we had.”

Merlin grinned bitterly. “What we had... I never knew you felt the same.”

“Neither did I.”

“Of course, there were moments…”

“Yes, certainly moments.”

“But I always thought… I don’t know. I figured I was letting my imagination get away with me.”

“Oh yes,” Arthur chuckled, “The imagination is an unkind thing.”

“And now?” Merlin asked.

“Now? Merlin, haven’t I told you a hundred times that I want to be with you?”

“It’s strange, having you remember me now. I didn’t know if it would change things.”

“It does change things. I’ve been worried all these months that I wasn’t the one you wanted to resurrect. That you were mourning some other man, and I had taken his place.”

Merlin looked away. Arthur got a heavy feeling in his gut. The silence stretched on, and Merlin said nothing.

“Merlin?”

Merlin sighed. He sat up and looked at Arthur. “There was another man.”

“Oh.”

“He and I were together, just before I brought you back.”

“Just before.” Arthur’s heart was beating fast. “So this need you say you had, for me. It was because you lost him, somehow?” Merlin had waited so long for him to return. Arthur didn’t care if Merlin had loved others, but he was back now. He was the one Merlin wanted, wasn’t he?

“No, that’s not it.” Merlin set his cup down, his eyes sad. “I’m going to tell you about him, so you can understand.”

“Okay,” Arthur said. He set his own cup down, and waited.

Merlin took a deep breath.

“I met him at the lake. I went back nearly every day after you…” He frowned. “I guess I thought you might come back any time, and when you did, I wanted to be there.” He met Arthur’s eye. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

Arthur squeezed Merlin’s hand.

“I saw him out on the lake a few times,” Merlin continued, “He liked to fish on Sundays, and we were always the only two people out there. He would see me on the shore and wave. One day I was sitting there by the water, and I saw his little boat coming toward me. He pulled up and he said ‘Want to come out?’ just like that. He said since I liked looking at the lake so much, I should enjoy a new angle.

“After Camelot was gone, I tried so hard to be alone. I didn’t want to have to lose anyone else. But I always made new friends whether I wanted to or not. The losses piled up. Somehow life went on, and the cycle always started again, because the loneliness was always worse than the loss. I loved people, too. More than friendly love. It took me a while to open myself up to it, I was so attached to… Well, I knew you would be back, and that we were twin souls, and that I would always love you. So why would I fall in love with anyone else? Why would I let them get attached to me when I knew you were coming? They never got all of me. I got used to pulling back, I guess. They lived, they died, or they left, and I went on. I always went on.

“He kissed me on the boat. I was so... surprised. Not to be kissed, but to be kissed there, over your…” He glanced at Arthur sheepishly. “I had never done anything like that at the lake. He must have thought I was mad, the way I acted. I yelled, I scolded. I nearly pushed him in.” Merlin smiled to himself. “And once we were on the shore I kissed him back. We were together just over a year.”

“Only a year?” Arthur asked. He had done his best to stay silent and keep his face blank until now. 

Merlin nodded. “I’m surprised it lasted that long. It’s not that we weren’t good together, it's just that I was never in love.”

“Never?” Arthur asked.

“Never.”

“I’m sorry.” 

Merlin shook his head. “He fell in love with me. He got restless, insecure. He knew I had a foot out the door, that I was hiding things from him. He demanded to know if I was on the run from the law, or seeing someone else. He needed to know why I couldn’t love him as he loved me.” He rubbed his thumb over Arthur’s palm. “I told him about you. That you had died. The sorcery and the agelessness, that would come out eventually, but at first I only told him that you were gone, and that I still loved you, and that I had never gotten to tell you.”

Arthur smiled sadly. He brushed his fingertips over Merlin’s temple.

“He understood,” Merlin said. “He was almost too understanding. Probably he was relieved I wasn’t some kind of murderer. Later, when he found out about the magic, and the prophecy, and how long ago I had really lost you, he was different. He started acting really strange. He got distant, and I would catch him reading my old books.” Merlin pulled his hand away from Arthur’s and closed his eyes.

“Hey,” Arthur said, “What is it?”

“He, er, he came to me one night, with these plans. He believed me, about the prophecy, and love had made him stupid. He said you and I were meant to be.”

“He put your needs above his own. Admirable man,” Arthur said. He assumed this was the part where they broke up. Merlin was giving him a pained look. 

“He wanted to help me bring you back. So I could be happy.”

“How could he help you? He didn’t have magic, did he?”

“No. See, he had been studying you. Your family, your… birth. He said the fact that you existed at all was proof that it could work.” 

“My birth? What do you mean?”

“You remember how you were born, don’t you?”

“Yes. How could I not? I lost my mother.” Arthur wasn’t sure what Merlin was getting at.

“You were also born of magic, and all magic comes with a price. Uther paid for your life with hers.”

“I suppose you could put it that way. He didn’t know that’s what he was doing at the time.”

“I know. That’s not the point.”

“Okay. So how did this man propose that you pay this price?”

“He wanted…” Merlin couldn’t even seem to say it. Suddenly it clicked.

“He wanted to pay for my life… With his?”

Merlin looked up at him. There were tears in his eyes. 

“Yes,” he whispered. 

“No.” Arthur felt his heartbeat growing loud. “Merlin, tell me you didn’t.”

“I… I told him I wouldn’t. I was horrified. He had become obsessed, he would talk about nothing else, and-” He cursed himself. “Some small, horrible part of me was tempted. Something in me was excited at the thought of seeing you again.” 

Merlin looked to Arthur. Arthur’s head was getting foggy. He watched Merlin’s face, waiting for him to go on.

Merlin hugged his knees to his chest. “I had to end it with him,” he said, “He had become too attached to me, to you. He loved me too much, to the point that he cared nothing for himself. All he wanted was to see me happy, he said, and he would have set himself on fire if that’s what it took. I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore. ‘You shouldn’t let anyone have that kind of power over you,’ I said.” He shot Arthur a wry smile. “I’m a damned hypocrite, of course.”

Arthur sat himself a little closer. “I have to ask, then,” he said, “How did you bring me back?”

Merlin went white. “This part is difficult to talk about.”

Arthur pulled him into a hug. “Please,” he said, “If you can, please tell me.”

“Okay,” Merlin took a shaky breath. “I went to the lake that night. To think, and to be near you. I was walking toward my usual spot, and then I saw a…. Light…” Merlin’s voice was trembling. “And he was there. He had set up some kind of circle, and he had one of my books… and a... knife…” He started to cry. “He did it before I could even say anything. I couldn’t heal him. He was looking at me the whole time, just waiting, and I…” Merlin covered his face. “I did the spell.”

“You…?”

“I used his death to bring you back.”

Arthur felt sick. He got up and walked to the window.

“I’m so sorry, Arthur.” Merlin was still crying.

Arthur turned around. “I’m the reason my mother died. That has hung over my head my whole life.”

“I know.”

“And everyone in the Battle of Camlann. Everyone in Camelot. I carry the weight of those deaths too.”

“I know.”

Arthur turned back to the window. He opened it, and leaned out to feel the cool breeze on his face. 

“I tried to tell him… to explain to him that it wasn’t what you wanted,” Merlin said, “I told him that wasn’t how the prophecy said it would happen.” He laughed bitterly through his tears. “For so long I thought you would come back on your own. I thought you would rise out of the lake, fresh as the day I met you, already dressed for battle. I spent so many years waiting.” Merlin wiped his nose. “I would have kept waiting,” he said, “As long as it took. He didn’t understand that.”

Arthur nodded. He closed the window.

“I need to go. I’m going to go think,” he said.

“Okay,” Merlin said.

Arthur left. He went to the lake. He cried, and yelled, and hit the trees. He visited the spot where Merlin had dug him up, and he felt the mud between his fingers. He stripped, and swam out to the middle of the lake, and floated. He turned over and looked down, trying to see to the bottom. All he saw was darkness. 

The sun had already set when Arthur returned home. Merlin was just where Arthur had left him, and the tears were still fresh on his face. Arthur strode across the room and kissed him. 

“I love you,” He whispered against Merlin’s lips.

Merlin pulled him close and hugged him. 

“I love you,” he said, shakily.

“I still feel strange about what happened,” Arthur said, “I’m upset, and it might take a while for that to change, but…” He pulled away and pressed his forehead against Merlin’s. “I’m going to make us dinner.”

Merlin was keeping his face purposely blank, Arthur could tell. “You are?” he asked politely.

“Stop it. Fine. You can teach me.”

Merlin cracked a smile. “Alright.”


	7. Chapter 7

It was two weeks later, and they were in bed, Arthur’s head in Merlin’s lap as he perused his book of magic. Arthur watched his face, smiling every so often when Merlin would focus on a spell, and his eyes would flash gold for a fraction of a second.

“How come I never see you do magic?” Arthur asked.

Merlin blinked and looked down at Arthur. “Hmm?” he said.

Arthur laughed. “Why don’t you use your magic around me?”

“Oh.” Merlin set down his book, looking bewildered. “I guess it’s a habit.”

“Show me a spell,” Arthur murmured.

Merlin blushed. “Alright.” He looked to the fireplace. “Forbærnan,” he said. His eyes flashed gold, and Arthur felt that electric warmth in his chest. 

Merlin looked down and met Arthur’s eye. “You didn’t even see it,” he said, gesturing to the now-roaring fire.

Arthur smiled. “I saw it,” he said.

“Ah.” Merlin blushed again. 

Arthur couldn’t help it. He sat up and kissed Merlin, long and deep. Merlin looked slightly dazed when Arthur pulled away, which only made him want to kiss him again. 

“I’ve, um,” Arthur said, clearing his throat, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh, that’s never good,” Merlin murmured, looking at Arthur’s lips.

“Shut up.” Arthur smiled. “No, I was thinking about… how I came back.”

Merlin’s smile faded. “Okay,” he said, businesslike.

Arthur looked him very earnestly in the eye. “I just wanted you to know that I was thinking, and.... Well what I was thinking was, that I think…”

It was almost funny how patient and serious Merlin was being while Arthur made his idiotic speech. Arthur cleared his throat.

“I think I might have done the same, in your shoes,” he said, “Probably sooner, and with a great deal more disaster involved. I don’t know how you waited so long, to be honest-”

He was cut off when Merlin kissed him, passionately and hard, with tears in his eyes. He pushed Arthur over onto his back and kissed his breath away. Now it was Arthur’s turn to be dazed.

“I just,” Arthur said breathlessly, after the kiss ended, with Merlin looking down at him, “I wanted you to know that it wasn’t your fault, any of it. Not back in Camelot, and not here, now. It wasn’t your fault. That man you were with, I’m sorry, I hate to speak ill of him, but he wronged you. He did.”

Merlin was crying now. He laid his head down on Arthur’s chest.

“Oh, no, please don’t cry.” Arthur wound his fingers through Merlin’s hair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that about him. What’s the spell to stop your love from crying?”

Merlin laughed tearfully. “This is.” 

He kissed Arthur again. 

“It’s okay,” he said after, “I’m not crying about him. Well, maybe I am. It’s just... everything. It’s all been so hard to manage alone. You knowing, and understanding, despite everything, it’s just…” He took a deep breath. “It’s a weight off. There’s a lot I’ve been keeping inside, and I think it’s just coming out now.”

Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin, and they laid there together, content in the silence for a moment. 

“I’m still sorry,” Merlin said, sniffling. “I didn’t want to hang another death over your head.” He wiped his eyes. 

Arthur ran his fingers through Merlin’s hair. “You didn’t. He did. And I suppose he wanted to.” He sighed. “It’s not nice, but it’s… Well, it’s done. And done willingly. And there was nothing you could have done to change it.”

“I could have left you in the dirt. I could have let him die for nothing.”

“Forgive me,” Arthur said, twining his fingers through Merlin’s, “But I’m glad you didn’t.” He meant it. 

Merlin settled with his head on Arthur’s shoulder, and soon they fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

It had been a long, lovely period of simplicity and happiness. Merlin and Arthur settled back into their routine, content in it, now that everything was in the open. Merlin cut back to part-time at the shop, and on the weekends the two of them took short holidays to places they had never thought to go before. Arthur found more variety in his days alone. Sometimes he would don his old armor and spend the day in the woods, hunting for their dinner. He began to feel like himself again. 

It was months before Arthur started to sense that restlessness in Merlin again, that feeling that he didn’t really want Arthur there. Arthur didn’t care for this feeling, especially since he had no cause to feel it anymore. 

“Are you… alright?” he asked one night, as they walked through the empty streets.

“ ‘Course,” Merlin said absently. 

“Right.” Arthur stopped, pulling Merlin around by the hands so they were facing each other. “You’re doing it again,” he said.

“Doing what?”

“That thing you said you do. Pushing me away, and not telling me what’s on your mind.” Arthur rubbed the back of Merlin’s hands with his thumbs. “Tell me,” he said.

Merlin gave him a sad smile. “Just thinking,” he said.

“Alright,” Arthur sighed. He didn’t want to push it. Merlin would tell him when he was ready. All Arthur could do was be there to hear it. 

When they got home, Arthur started preparing the vegetables for their dinner. He found he liked cooking, now that he knew how. Merlin came up behind him, and stayed Arthur’s hands.

“Let me do it tonight,” he said in Arthur’s ear.

“Alright,” Arthur managed to say, a pleasant shiver running up his spine. He turned and gave Merlin a kiss, and then went to sit at the table.

He watched Merlin cook. Merlin’s face was solemn, expressionless. He held his shoulders low.

By the time Merlin served the food, Arthur realized his heart was beating fast. He wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous. Neither of them ate. 

“Arthur, I…” Merlin started. He didn’t look Arthur in the eye.

“You can tell me,” Arthur said, sadly.

“I don’t think this should go on.”

Arthur’s ears were pounding. “Why, Merlin?” he asked, softly. His voice shook.

Merlin’s eyes filled with tears. “I just haven’t felt… right. For a while now, it’s been…” he sighed. “I’m not happy. I can’t let myself be.”

“Why?” Arthur asked, crying. “Did I…?

“No,” Merlin said, quickly, “You’ve been perfect. Absolutely…” Merlin lost his voice for a moment. “I feel like I’ve stolen something from you. Like I’ve trapped you here.”

“Merlin,” Arthur said, crossing around the table and taking Merlin’s hands in his own, “I don’t understand. I’m content here, with you. What would you have me do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I want you to have your own life. I don’t want you bound to me.”

“Merlin,” Arthur couldn’t help but smile, “I’m bound to you whether I like it or not. Hasn’t all of this proven that?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Merlin said, crying.

“Help me understand, please.”

Merlin took a shuddering breath. “It’s not how I thought it would be,” he said, in that gentle, shameful kind of way.

Arthur’s stomach was in knots. “I see,” he said, heart breaking. “Well… A lot may have changed, but my offer from before still stands. Say the word, and I’ll go. I can make my own way, if need be.”

Merlin gripped his hands fiercely. “You have to understand. That night, when I dug you up, I was so confused. I had just lost someone, and then you were there.”

Arthur wanted to cover his ears like a child. He didn’t want to hear that this whole time, Merlin had just been carrying on with some desperate impulse he’d had in that one moment. That he’d only kept this up because he didn’t know what else to do. Arthur’s eyes stung. 

“You were back,” Merlin continued, “And it felt like a dream. Some part of me thought I might never see you again, after all those years. But there you were, just as I remembered you, exactly how you used to be. I love you Arthur, I’ve always…”

Arthur looked up, astonished. He kissed Merlin’s hand. Merlin wiped away a tear. 

“Then why can’t you let me stay?” Arthur asked softly, regaining a little hope. “Why can’t we just love each other?”

“I’m not the same person I was, back then. I’m darker, uglier, in here.” Merlin put a hand over his heart. 

Arthur considered for a moment. “I love you anyway,” he said.

“But-”

“No. I love you anyway.”

“Listen to me! This is a fantasy, this isn’t what we think it is in our heads.”

“So what?”

“What?”

“I said, so what?”

“I heard you, I-”

“I don’t care if this is a fantasy. I don’t care if you’re different now. I see you. I feel you- no, you don’t understand- I feel what you’ve got in that dark, ugly heart of yours. And you’re Merlin. You are the person I love. So to hell with reality, let’s live in this fantasy. Why not?”

“Because… Because it can’t last. You’ve missed so much…”

“Who said anything about lasting? Haven’t you had enough of lasting?”

Merlin shook his head. “I can’t lose you again.”

Arthur smiled, a wave of relief washing over him. “Then don’t.” He kissed him. “Just surrender to it, Merlin. Don’t waste your time with what-ifs. It’s not worth it, trust me.” 

Merlin took a shuddering breath. “Just give me one more,” he said.

“Merlin-”

“What if we get used to each other? We spent so long wanting this to happen, and it tore me apart. But the want of you made me love you more. If this goes on, don’t you think we’ll get sick of each other, eventually?”

“One can only hope,” Arthur replied. 

Merlin cracked a smile. “Actually, I think I’m sick of you already.”

Arthur laughed.

“And somehow,” Merlin continued, “I love you anyway.”


End file.
